Friday, April 30, 2010

After I woke up..

It is so common for me now a days to just wrap my arm around my tired eyes, and try to fall deep within myself. It seems I am feverishly looking for a bug, some strange clutter that is stuck up somewhere between my brains and my nerves. I am severely smouldered these days, battling my own self. I do not know where I have lost myself; my proud self that I used to flaunt to my 21 years old well known and looked up to self confidence, whenever it used to go low because of something unpleasant. But these days, huh, I feel like a small kid, who loved his mother to beyond the universe, but who lost her in the crowd, and now is wandering on the busy freeways amongst speedy traffic, crying his agony out, ignoring his burning throat, avoiding to feel his lung muscles getting tired, sidelining his hunger pangs, trying to ignore his blistered feet, and just looking to get back to home, to his mother. To relief. To peace.  But all that life can offer him at the moment are painful ears due to the honking world around him, and hopeful, yet lost eyes. The world rushing past him, making him feel he has been left behind. Far behind, of where he thinks he should have been now. Love, affection, care....everything seems to be another world. A different universe altogether. Now what he sees is nothing except strangers. Both in persons and in feelings.  The thing that pains more is now he is becoming accustomed to this life. He seems to have forgotten the mother. The home. It feels to him that he has come a long way, a long way from where he was the king of someones world. Where, actually, he was someones world. Now, all that is left is disarray. Confusion. Would he ever find himself? Would he ever step on the doorway of his home? Would he find peace, solace in anything except his own hopeless hope of living again? He doesn’t know the answer to any of this. He also doesn’t know if he will get it ever. He just sits beside a wrought bench on the street, living with his glances to the world swooshing past him, living with the feeling of being left behind, left alone, searching for answers of what he is, was or will ever be.

Saturday, April 24, 2010


Suddenly an urge flared up on my fingertips. The next thought that crafted was that I dont want this to be a poem as it would require thinking. And this, I dont want to think and type.

Its been four long, arduous months since this facade has made itself an integral part of my life. Its almost in coherence with my tanned skin and severely tampered soul. Most of the readers of my blog (well, I guess there are just few of them) know that I write mostly when, as they say very disappointingly, "something happens" to me, or for that matter, with me. I say, its not that always something different happens to or with me. That something is just LIFE in either its angelic conformation or, very often the bitchy one.

This time, its neither of them. Its kind of twisted. Its a question, actually a horde of them, that has contorted the image of my own personality in me to great extents. There are so many questions, that very often it feels like my brain is no different from a sack being filled with rushing water, way beyond its capacity. And the part that is troublesome is, that the "sack" is still trying to hold on. Now it feels that the "sack" has a turgid conscience, one which has inflated beyond the capacity of self respect.

These days, when I hold the pen in my hands, all I manage to write is a tiny, as my confidence, a dot. It feels such a colossal task to even start! So much is happening, yet I feel like an empty vessel. A barrage of emotions fills my veins, but by the time they reach between my ears, it seems they get diluted with time, and contaminated by other thoughts residing there,  so much so, that the only change that happens is the dot gets darkened. Deep. And what happens next has become as frequent as the daily breath. My pen lays besides the dot, waiting to be picked up again in the so familiar tainted hope. And I, like the tiny dot, like the dark speck of beginning on my conscience, stay still where I was. Where I am right now. To some people who are really close, the monotony of this mess up would have begun to look like the monotony of seasons. Even the seasons differ in pattern and timing. But mine, both are unswayed everytime I hear a stressfull hello, if I hear one at all.

Why do I feel so caved out? Like I have been scraped from deep insides of my already damaged confidence? Scraped out each and everything that I possessed and was proud about? Sometimes it feels I am wasting this life that I have been gifted by the Big Man above. And sometimes, it feels as empty as an abandoned house for the past several years, a house which was a mammoth palace of exuberance and  glee. I have no answers to any of my questions out here. When I began writing (read: typing) this I did not know where would it finally lead to. I still dont know. I thought I will just write my heart out. But even when I am typing this I feel stuck somewhere! I just know that I have so much to do in life, so much on my mind every single day of the year, every single hour of the day that I feel I am lost. Both by location and by virtue.

Which path should I take? How would I know its right, even if I muster enough courage to choose one? What is this emptiness that is filled in me? College, phone(x 4), education, industry updates, assignments, projects, social networking, blogging, latest technology, newspaper reading, maintaining relationships, keeping in touch with friends (old/new/those who think they are and I simply abhore them but cannot cease contact due to some "social obligations"! :x), keeping in touch with important contacts, watching 24(its the latest addiction that haunts me even when I am under the shower), watching movies, gaining general knowledge, family........................damn. What not!

I just want my erratic thoughts to get straightened up and let me ease out. Let me know a way out of this shitty puzzle I am trapped in for the past 4 months. How to manage the above mentioned carcass of my brain in a day, so that I just feel that this life, is not withering away to disappear in thin air. I just want the whats and the hows and the whens and the whys to just get answered. I just want to feel substantial. I just want to accommodate the essentials in my life, become what I imagine myself as.

The problem is: I suddenly do not know how to.

And here again, my fingers withdraw themselves from this disjointed world of my confused ramblings....and I go back and play an episode of 24, silencing my quest towards myself until it rages again. Or till when, and if, a big if, I find my answers. 

Sunday, April 4, 2010

The Wish Game

The words are lost, as they seem,
I feel nothing but jeopardy,
Meandering paths through my scattered thoughts,
I try and try,
To pick my wish that is lost.

Confusion construes abatement of sanity,
This world seems to have just zombies and profanity!

So I yell.

“Listen! All the worlds just listen to me!
I do not seek success, my desire is peace!
I want to be born again, just wish it’s on Saturn!
Humans don’t fancy me anymore,
Humanity has become their private slattern!”

And I keep running on the Wish Path,
To step on what is mine, but alas!
With every step the ground beneath dissolves,
“Not this one, not even this...” they say
And I keep running to save my fall.....

My wish is lost once more,
And so am I in the confusion,
The confusion of what I want,
And what I should have chosen.

Sitting besides this window,
The fear fills my heart,
Time doesn’t wait,
Even for itself to depart!

Still I keep thinking,
How to keep winning,
In profession, love, friendship and family,
How to keep myself spinning.

Time wades across life,
It would reach the other end with pain,
I wish to find my wish by then,
And I really wish not to wish again.

PS: No REAL TIME scenario! :P